Sharp Edges
by amouretteelizabeth
Summary: Harriet Watson doesn't lead an easy life. She's 38, and a divorced recovering alcoholic, who leads a double life: by day she's a waitress at a small cafe in Camden Town, by night she's London's deadliest woman. An assassin and a spy, Harriet has to balance her life carefully in a city that never sleeps. A/N: assassin!harriet. On-going fic. T for now, but may be M later on.
1. Prologue - Life and Death

A/N: I've been meaning to do this for a really long time - I'm just so invested in Harriet Watson as a character, okay? I love her, especially the character she's developed into in my head.

If you know anything about my headcanon of Harriet Watson, it's that she's an assassin who worked for Jim Moriarty. This is about her life as an assassin, and her balancing the double life between waitress and assassin.

Post-Reichenbach, and contains the years before The Empty Herse.

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters except my OC, Akila, and the ideas and plot put forward in this fanfiction.

* * *

Prologue - Life and Death

* * *

"He's definitely dead, Harriet. Collected his body m'self. Me and the boys burnt it. No evidence that Jimmy ever existed now."

The woman nodded, her face dimly lit by the streetlamp lights pouring in through the window. Her hand rested on her square jaw, cupping it as she listened to the man. There were no lights in this flat - they didn't work, as the flat had been abandoned years ago, as had the building. Harriet, the woman, was sitting in the moth-eaten sofa, the arm that the hand resting on her chin was leaning against the arm of it. The man opposite her was called Sebastian Moran - a man of Taiwanese descent, and an orphan who had grown up in London, England. Harriet had always known him as Sebastian, but his birth name was a mystery to her; he had changed it the day he turned 18, and had never looked back.

"And Sherlock?" Harriet asked, lifting her gaze to Sebastian's face, watching him like an owl stalking its prey. "Definitely dead too?"

A pause. "Yes." Sebastian responded, followed by a simple nod of his head. "Saw it with my own eyes."

"Good." Harriet rose from her seat, her black heels boosting her height so that she almost matched Sebastian's. "This game of life and death is finally over."

She didn't believe what she was saying, somehow this was not over - not in Harriet's mind, and she doubted Sebastian himself believed it. He had been to say something, but the sound of a phone ringing interrupted him.

Harriet slipped her phone out of her pocket, glancing at the screen. "If you excuse me, Sebastian, I have some sisterly duties to attend to." Harriet said, about to answer the call from her brother. "I'll call you sometime tomorrow."

Sebastian nodded, and went to leave the room as Harriet picked up the phone. "John!" She said, feigning the concern in her voice. "I've been watching the news, how're holding up?"

John was in a state of distress, and Harriet could tell. "I'm on my way to yours. Want anything? I know how much you like that take away Chinese place. I'll bring some over and I'll stay a while, you shouldn't be alone right now."

Picking up her sleek, black gun case from the floor, Harriet left the apartment, her heels tapping along the hard stone flooring. She promptly ended the call to her little brother, putting her phone back into her jacket pocket and climbing into her small car. She could afford better with the money she made from her night job, but her job as a waitress was too poorly paid to get anything better. Best not give herself away.

She began to drive, the London roads teeming with life and energy. A good hour later, Harriet Watson turned up 221B, a bag of Chinese food in one hand, and a concerned expression on her face. She hugged her brother when he opened the door, rubbing him on the back. "Got your favourite - sweet and sour chicken with special fried rice. C'mon, let's go inside."

She sat at the end of the sofa, her shoes abandoned on the floor and her legs curled up beneath her. With the fork, she swirled the noddles around before stuffing them into her mouth. John didn't eat much, and Harriet could understand that - losing someone always took its toll on you. It was something she'd experienced first hand, and it was something that caused the worst six months of her life.

"Will you come?" John asked, suddenly jerking around from his position at the opposite end of the sofa to face her. "To the funeral, I mean. I know you never met the man, but I can't do it alone, Etty. I just... I just can't."

Harriet abandoned her plate on the floor and scooted closer to her brother. "Of course, John. Whatever you need, I'm here and one hundred percent sober. Promise." She held up her pinky finger, nodding as if to tell him to lock his pinky with hers. He did after a few moments, smiling weakly at her.

The funeral soon came around, and Harriet stood by John, holding the umbrella over their heads as the coffin was lowered into the ground. It was soon covered in in dirt, and the ceremony was over. Looking at her brother, she placed a hand on his shoulder. "You need a ride back to 221B?"

He shook his head. "You can go, Etty." He mumbled. "I need to be alone right now."

Harriet nodded, turning to leave. As soon as she was out of earshot, she called Sebastian.

"He's buried." She said into the phone. "God that was dull, listening to them drone on about him. You'd think he was a saint."

As she left the cemetery, Harriet saw something move out of the corner of her eye. Turning, she looked around. Nothing was there - no one apart from John was there now.

But she was certain...

Shaking her head, she said goodbye to Sebastian, and left the cemetery. The drive back to her house she convinced herself that it was just nothing - probably just a bird.

But she couldn't help but wonder if it was a person she had seen. It had been big enough, and it hadn't moved fast enough to be a bird.

She was being silly. It had been a long day, and she needed a rest.

Besides, she had a client to see to later that night. She couldn't be tired for that, could she?

* * *

A/N: I feel like this was a good place to start with this story. I'll update sometime next week, as I'm away until next Monday (Reading festival wooooo!).

I hope you liked this fic and my interpretation of Harry! There's more to come, promise ;)

Review? xx


	2. Chapter 1 - Cold Water

**A/N: **I LIED here have an update

I might have to up this fic to an M due to this chapter... TW for torture, blood, and murder. In the first chapter. Aren't I FABULOUS

Also, if you guys were wondering, Etty is John's pet name for Harriet :) Harry was specifically a Clara nickname. Everyone else calls her H or Harriet.

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters except my OCs, and the ideas and plot put forward in this fanfiction.

* * *

Chapter 1 - Cold Water

* * *

It was a cold, foggy morning in October. Harriet Watson had reluctantly tumbled out of bed, her brown hair a mess and dark circles under her eyes from where she had rubbed the eyeliner and mascara in her sleep. She sat in the edge of her bed, desperately trying to muster the will power to get up, shower, and then dress and head off to work. She sat like that for a few minutes, trying to wake herself up. Rolling her shoulders in a swift motion, Harriet stood, trudging toward the bathroom.

The shower was freezing cold, and Harriet flinched when it hit her skin. "Fucking hell..." She muttered under her breath, proceeding to quickly wash her body and hair, wanting to get out of the shower as quickly as possible. The cold shower for definite woke her up, her senses suddenly alert. Once out of the shower, Harriet dried and brushed her hair through before tying it up into a tight pony tail; she stayed in the bathroom for a little while longer, fixing her makeup and putting her contact lenses in place. Moderately happy with how she looked, Harriet made for the bedroom, chucking on the blue and white checkered shirt and the knee length black pencil skirt, along with the black apron that tied around her waist. She pinned her name tag on last - it read in big blue letters:

**HARRIET**  
**TEAM MEMBER**

It felt a little demeaning, particularly when people came up to her while she was working and said: "Hi... HARRIET. Could I get an espresso with extra whipped cream?"

With a sigh, Harriet pulled on her coat, stuffing her phone and keys into the pockets, and started off for work. She lived close to the small cafe where she worked, so she had never had the need to drive. Besides, driving in fog like this would probably take longer than walking the distance. It was seven AM when Harriet arrived at work, knocking on the door for her manager to let her in.

"Morning, Jen." Harriet said, walking in through the doors, slipping off her coat as she did. Jen nodded in response, before changing over the sign in the door to read "open". It wouldn't be long before the morning rush would be in, but they could handle that, as the morning rush only included a steady list of seven people.

The day passed slowly, Harriet spending the majority of it either leaning against the counter, tapping her fingers against the wooden surface, or out the back with Jen, having a cheeky cigarette in the cold winter air air.

"How's John doing?" Jen asked. She was cradling a cigarette in her right hand, while her left tugged at her coat, pulling it tighter around her. "Its been like almost a year since Sherlock jumped, he's gotta be doing better."

Harriet shrugged. "He's okay. I mean, he did see his best friend die." Raising the cigarette to her lips, Harriet sucked on it, inhaling the smoke before breathing it out. "I've been thinking about setting him up with someone. He needs to get out there, y'know?"

Jen nodded. "With who though?" Jen paused to take a drag of the cigarette. "Not me. Your brother is nice and all, but I like them with slightly less baggage."

Harriet laughed. "Jen, you like them fresh out of uni with no bloody clue what they're doing with their lives."

The two women laughed, dropping their cigarettes to the ground and stamping them out. For the remainder of their shift, they served the little customers they had, before handing the cafe over to the evening crew and signing out.

Harriet and Jen walked together down the road - Jen puffing away on a cigarette and Harriet walking with her hands in her pockets. They parted ways at the train station, Jen going to catch her train and Harriet walking on. They would see each other again the next day, and events similar to today's would go down.

Walking I'm through the door, Harriet chucked her keys down into the end table by the coat rack. It was then Harriet noticed a pair of dainty shoes, and a smile grew upon her face. Akila was home.

"Hey, Akila!" Harriet called through the house. "Why didn't you tell me you were home today?"

"What, I have to tell you every single detail of my life now? Geez, H, you're becoming more like my mother every day."

Harriet followed the voice into the living room, where her roommate, Akila Chione, was lounging on the sofa, a book in her hand. Akila was a few years younger than Harriet, and while she was thirty four, she looked like she could be in her mid twenties. Akila always said it was down to her Egyptian heritage, something if which she was very proud of. Her hair was light brown - almost blonde - and it trailed down her back. Her skin was a dark, sepia colour, and across her back she had the scales of the Weighing of the Heart ceremony tattooed on her. She was invested in Ancient History, particularly the Ancient Egyptian book of the dead.

"How was Cyprus?" Harriet asked, collapsing into the armchair. "Your client pay you well?"

Akila nodded. "I got them the information they wanted, they paid me £5000 for it. No names exchanged."

Akila was a spy - she gathered information for people who wanted it, and they would pay her for it. She didn't do just that though - with a degree in law, she also fixed people's problems, making them go away for good. She had been Moriarty's lawyer before Sherlock's fall, and she had an interesting way of working - this included blackmail, destroying evidence, getting a few offs her psychologist friends to sign off faked psychological exams. She was the best lawyer anyone in the criminal circle could want.

"Impressive." Harriet noted, curling her legs under her body. "Got any upcoming jobs?"

Akila shook her head. "You do, though." She stood. "Some guy called for you today. Has a proposition for you." Akila handed Harriet a piece of paper containing the man's number and where he wanted to meet.

Harriet studied the note. "Thanks." She muttered, standing up. "Better go get ready for this meeting, haven't I?"

* * *

It was eight o'clock, and Harriet was sitting in the bar, nursing a coke, where the mystery man had wanted to meet. Harriet could handle herself in a bar - she wasn't as flimsy as she had been after she was recovering. She was recovered now, she could be around alcohol and not be tempted to drink anything.

As she sipped the coke from the glass, she noticed a man come and sit beside her. He was white and tall with dark hair, and green eyes that shone like emeralds in the lights. He was dressed well - the suit he was wearing had obviously been tailored just for him. His age showed on his face, where the crease lines around his mouth had deepened with his age, and the wrinkles on his forehead aged him even more so. He must have been at least twenty years older than Harriet herself.

She waited for a moment before speaking up.

"Mr. White?" It so obviously wasn't his real name, but in this business, you'd be lucky to get anyone's real name.

"Miss Morta." He replied, turning to face her. "I believe you can fix my little predicament."

"I believe I can." Harriet replied. Morta was the name she used for her business. It was her way of insuring she wouldn't get caught. "What do you need to be solved?"

He slid a photo toward her. The image contained a white man with blonde hair, a thin mouth, and dark eyes that made her feel slightly uncomfortable. They were the type of dark that would make you think that he were possessed. "The man in the picture is my daughter's fiancée. He's a danger to her and their unborn child." He said, before sliding another photo to her, containing an image of a very battered and bruised young woman - mixed race, with tawny skin and her father's green eyes, and long black hair that had been scraped into a pony tail. She had stitches on her forehead in this picture, as well as a swollen black eye. "She won't press charges. She believes that he is sorry every single time, and she refuses to listen to me." He paused, glancing at Harriet. "Miss Morta, would you take care of this man? I will pay you a tremendous amount if you do."

"How much are we talking, Mr. White?"

"Twelve grand. More if you make him suffer."

Pursing her lips, Harriet nodded. "I will need full access to the house and for your daughter to be far away if he is to have a painful death."

"I will do anything you need in order to get this man out of my daughter's life." He said, slipping a brown file over to her. "Here are his details. Do we have a deal, Miss Morta?"

Harriet nodded. "Yes, Mr. White. We have a deal."

They shook on it, and with that, Harriet left the bar. This man was desperate - something she liked in her clients. Desperate clients usually paid more, and Harriet wasn't going to complain with twelve grand.

Back at the flat, Harriet examined the file Mr. White had given her. Every instance of domestic abuse recorded in the pages, and the details of their home - every camera and every entrance written down, as well as a detailed plan of the home. They were rich, Harriet would give them that, but this wasn't something she could do alone. She needed help.

Akila and Sebastian were the two people to immediately spring to mind. Akila had the hacking skills, and Sebastian was an expert at painful. Harriet preferred a more simple, execution style assassination. Sebastian, on the other hand, was more experienced in the methods of torture. They could split the money three ways easily. Picking up her phone, Harriet phoned Sebastian, listening to the bleeping before his voice sounded at the end of the line.

"Hello?" He was tired, Harriet could tell. "What d'you want, Harriet?"

"Help." Harriet replied, fingering the edge of the file. "Client wants his daughter's fiancée dead, but it's gonna take more than just me to kill him. He wants the fiancée to have a painful death, and who more practiced in the area of pain than Sebastian Moran?"

"I'm honoured." Sebastian was silent for a moment. "How much?"

"Twelve grand, but we're gonna split it between you, me, and Akila."

"Why Akila?"

"She's the only one out of us three that can hack, Sebastian."

"Okay... So that's £4000 each. Fair enough."

"Knew you'd agree. Thanks, Sebastian. Come over tomorrow evening, and we can crack open a bottle of lemonade and plan this."

Sebastian chuckled. "I'll get some non-alcoholic beer for us, sounds better than lemonade."

With that, Harriet hung up. This was gonna be one hell of a group project.

* * *

The next Friday, when the plan had been finished, Harriet and Sebastian set off. Akila found an abandoned flat building, and had set herself up there with her laptop and all the tech she would need for the night. It was a mission of sorts, and Akila wasn't one to turn down a challenge; they were her favourite thing. Challenges, that was. Proving her skills was embedded deeply into her personality, and it didn't take a genius to realise how competitive she was.

Sebastian and Harriet sat in Sebastian's Jeep, setting their equipment up - for Sebastian, this included knives, a bag of ice, and his sniping rifle, among other instruments of torture. For Harriet, she had a small hand gun, and her sniping rifle. These two were trained assassins - Harriet didn't know the name of the man who had trained Sebastian, but Sebastian had trained her in her younger years as an assassin.

Peeping out the window, Harriet watched Mr. White walk his heavily pregnant daughter to his car - they were dressed up, obviously going out somewhere fancy. What he had done to convince her not to bring the fiancée, Harriet didn't know. All she knew was that the man in question was to be killed tonight. _Sucks to be him, _Harriet thought. As if on cue, Harriet's phone buzzed.

"Who is it?" Sebastian asked, his gaze focused on his sniping rifle. His passion for his guns was sometimes amusing to Harriet, it made for good teasing when the three of them were hanging out.

"Mr. White." Harriet replied, going to open the message. "He's giving us the all clear."

Sebastian nodded, going to pick up his phone to call Akila. "Alright, Akky, we're clear for take off."

"Don't call me _Akky_, Sebby." Akila said, and Harriet could hear the smirk the other woman most probably was wearing on her face.

Sebastian frowned. "Fine. You can start your hacking now, _Akila_."

"Much better."

They waited until Akila had given them the all clear; the man in question was in the bedroom currently - and then, with all camera's and alarms had been switched off, and the gates to the mansion unlocked, Harriet and Sebastian made a move for the mansion. Hackers were truly useful people, and Harriet loved them. The assassins let themselves in, walking up the drive way, careful to look out for any pets or a burglar light. They searched for an open window, and sure enough they managed to find one. Sebastian boosted Harriet in, and she went to the back door to let him in. She greeted him with a simple nod, and the pair went off to explore the home.

Finding the bedroom, they glanced at each other, knowing what was about to happen. "Right," Harriet started. "Give me the ice. I'll go prepare the bath."

Sebastian passed it to her. "I got the tranqualisers. They'll knock him out long enough to get him into the bath."

"Fantastic." Harriet replied, checking her watch. "We have three hours. Mr. White and the daughter will be returning at eleven sharp."

Sebastian nodded, and opened the door. Harriet went the opposite way, making for the bathroom, turning on the taps and making sure the bath would be freezing cold. Ripping open the bag of ice, Harriet dumped it all into the porcelain tub. Once satisfied with the bath she ditched her equipment by the toilet, and and went off to help Sebastian to move the man to the bathtub.

They dumped him in, and the man startled awake struggling in order to try and get out. Sebastian forced him back in. Harriet, who was now sitting on the toilet (it's lid shut down, as she was using it as if it were a seat). "I really do hate men like you, Jack." Harriet said, putting on a silky and airy voice as she spoke. "I don't take kindly to abusers. Neither does my friend here."

The man spluttered. "Abuse? I ain't no abuser! You got the wrong man here, lady!"

Harriet held up the picture of Mr. White's daughter - the one with the stitches and the black eye. "Is this your future wife, Jack?"

He nodded.

"Then I do have the right man." Harriet said quietly. "As I said, I don't take kindly to men like you. Men who feel entitled to women, men who think they have the right to beat a _pregnant_ woman senseless." Harriet glanced at Sebastian. "Dunk him, S."

"Gladly, H." Sebastian replied. The man tried to resist, but Sebastian pushed him under, holding him there in the ice cold water for fifteen seconds before letting him up. The man coughed and spluttered, choking up water. "Hey, H, do you think that was long enough? Because I think this bastard could use another freshening up."

"My thoughts exactly, S. Hold him down for longer this time, though. He could use it." Harriet said, smiling sweetly at Jack. "How about 30 seconds this time?"

"Alright."

Jack protested, but was cut off by Sebastian pinning him down into the cold water.

"Wanna go get something to eat after this?" Sebastian asked. "I'm starving."

"Totally." Harriet responded blankly. "Alright, let him up."

Jack resurfaced, coughing up fits of water. He was crying now. Harriet could have rolled her eyes at the sight. "Pathetic. Don't you agree, S?"

"Extremely pathetic."

Harriet reached down to her gun case, opening it up and pulling out her hand gun. "I'm a little bored now." She said, closing the case and standing up. "I think it's time we said goodbye to Mr. Jack."

Harriet let the man splutter and try to explain himself. Harriet didn't listen to anything he said, all she did was fit the silencer onto the end of the hand gun.

Jack was begging now. Just how Harriet liked them.

Then there was blood. All over the wall and leaking down into the bathtub, turning the clear, icy water a murky red. Harriet lowered her gun, holding it by her side. "He did _not _want to shut up."

* * *

Harriet, Sebastian, and Akila went to eat at one of their favourite hotspots - The Dancing Peacock. It was a pub, but it's food was spectacular. The three of them sat round a table, their food in front of them, and talking over the latest gossip in their lives, as if what had happened tonight hadn't happened at all.

Sebastian was seeing a girl - Carina. "She's Irish. Dublin, I think." Sebastian said, rubbing his neck. "Anyways, she's a devil in bed. Never had sex like it."

Akila almost spat out her drink. "Too much information, Sebby."

Harriet laughed, bringing her drink (diet cola) to her lips. She felt truly relaxed at that moment in time. As the conversation continued, Harriet noticed her phone buzzing - a text from her previous client, Mr. White.

_Thank you for your service, Miss Morta. You will find the £12,000 in your bank account tomorrow morning._

_Have a good night._

_-Mr. W_

She smiled to herself, before she slipped her phone back into her jacket pocket. That twelve grand would soon be split three ways between the three friends.

It was all over the news the next day, their little assassination was. They had left no evidence, as per usual. It was another job well done, and Harriet was £4000 richer. She had been better paid under Moriarty, but since his death, Harriet had certainly done well by herself.

Akila came into the living room, where Harriet was sitting watching the news. "So, Harriet, what's next on the agenda?"

Harriet shrugged, before smiling lightly. "Finding my baby brother a date." She chuckled, and Akila joined in soon after. "No idea where I'm gonna get someone, though."

Akila was silent, her lips pursed in thought. "I have a friend. Name's Mary. We used to work together." Akila said sitting on the arm of the sofa. "She was part of the team I had in America. She wasn't called Mary then. She's not in the assassin business any more, and I know she's looking to settle down."

Harriet considered the offer. "Would you call her? My brother needs someone in his life - he has friends, but I hate seeing him so _lonely_." That was mostly because he would sometimes just call Harriet out of the blue and talk for hours on end. It was all really rather dull.

"Yeah, I can totally set that up." Akila said, looking up at the news. "Mary's nice. Normal... Ish. But nice. She's perfect for John."

"Better be. If I get another call at an ungodly hour in the morning, I will throw my phone out the window." Harriet said, refraining from rolling her eyes. "Thanks, Akila. For the date set up, and for your help last night. Couldn't have done it without you."

"Honey, you couldn't do anything without me."

* * *

**A/N:** And taaa daaa

Hope you enjoyed this... I didn't know I had such sick ideas in my head.

I'm gonna bring John into the next chapter, as well as Mary in the next few! I also hope you guys like the Akila/Seb/Harriet friendship, it is one of my favourites :)

Review? x

-AE


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